Marital Bliss
by mochachill
Summary: (Humor, NOT shippage) Hoshi is forced to imagine married life with some of her crewmates.
1. A Sticky Situation

Marital Bliss 

Disclaimer : Star Trek is owned by Paramount. Please do not sue!!

Note from the authors: This story is strictly for fun—not shippage. 8^)

_It is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. _

_-- Jane Austen_

The cell was a small, dry room with smooth brown walls. One wall had a large opening covered by a tightly knit metal screen, so fine that it was almost sheer. Deceptively so, as they had already tested its strength and found it to be unforgiving.

Each of the other walls in the hexagon-shaped cell was lined with a bench, suspended from the ceiling by chains. On the center bench, directly across from the opening, Hoshi Sato sat, looking miserable.

"Hoshi, explain to me again how you missed this particular little detail when you were studying this planet's culture."

Hoshi turned to her right, where Jon Archer sat on another bench. "I _told you, sir, none of the materials they sent us contained any mention of their beliefs regarding women. I suppose their way of life is so ingrained that they don't even think to include it—they just assume everyone has the same value system."_

Trip Tucker interrupted. "Ya know, Jon, you can keep askin' her the same thing over and over, but it ain't gettin' us any closer to gettin' outta here. Maybe we need to focus on that."

Hoshi shot him a grateful look. Standing in the corner, arms crossed, he smiled at her ruefully.

Hoshi turned to the other two occupants—Malcolm and Travis. "Again, I am so sorry." Dropping her head into her hands, she moaned, "If I would only have known, I could have lied and said I was married to one of you. Instead of telling them the truth."

"Hoshi, you don't have to apologize anymore. It isn't your fault. There was no way for you to guess they would take such offense to a single woman traveling with a bunch of men." Travis smiled at her from the other bench. Malcolm, standing with his face all but pressed against the screen, ignored them. He was busy trying to intimidate their captors via threatening glares. So far, his strategy wasn't working.

"All right," Jon interrupted. "What we need to do is figure the easiest way out of this, without causing any offense to the Accar people. This trade agreement with them is extremely important to Starfleet."

Malcolm turned around now. "Sir, I believe the simplest solution is…one of us will just have to go through with the wedding tomorrow." The other four officers gaped at him. "If we all reject her, Hoshi will be executed in place of the wedding," Malcolm said defensively. "It would be an Accar ceremony; we wouldn't _really be married."_

"Right," Trip said dryly. "Except that they also require us to…consummate…the marriage. And their doctors are gonna be examinin' the bride and groom to make sure. They take this shit seriously down here."

All four men looked at the ceiling, walls, or their own shoes—anything to avoid meeting Hoshi's gaze. Not that she saw it. She kept her face buried in her hands to hide her flaming cheeks.

"Well, we can just cross that bridge when we come to it," Malcolm said tightly. "For now, we need to consider that this still might be the best option."

Jon started to bang his head lightly against the wall behind him. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he said, eyes closed, "but I think Malcolm is right."

Hoshi gasped, but it was drowned out by Trip's shout. "WHAT?! We are not gonna let them force any of us into _marriage. Trade agreement be damned; this is just stupid!"_

"You got any better ideas, Commander, I'm all ears," Jon shouted, startling them with his abrupt change in mood. "I don't like this any better than you." Hoshi's head came up. "But it might be our only option."

They all sat in silence, Hoshi eyeing Jon thoughtfully. Finally, Malcolm addressed the question that was hanging in the air. He moved into a formal military stance, feet apart, hands clasped behind him. "I'll do it, sir. I am head of security; it's my job to keep the crew safe. I will marry Ensign Sato." He said it with an air of sacrifice. _'A lot like he might sound if he were volunteering for a suicide mission,' Hoshi thought. She narrowed her eyes at him._

"Well, ya don't have ta sound like you're 'bout ta throw yourself on a live grenade," Trip told him. Hoshi looked at him appreciatively. _'Thank you, Commander.'  Trip continued, "I'll do it. Hell, I've done a lot worse things than this to get outta tight spots." Hoshi's back stiffened. Suddenly she didn't feel so appreciative._

Before she could respond, Jon shook his head and said, "No. Thank you both for volunteering, but I'm the Captain. If anyone has to marry Hoshi, it should be me." _Is that the overhead lighting, Hoshi thought viciously, __or is his skin actually turning a sickly green?_

The three men looked expectantly at Travis. His eyes widened and he crossed his arms over his chest, slouching back against the wall behind him. "Don't look at me! NO WAY!" They stared at him. He squirmed for a few seconds, then conceded in a defeated voice, "But I'll do it if I have to."

"Thank you _so __very __much, Travis," Jon said. "But we should probably leave this up to Hoshi. Ensign, which of us do you want to marry?"_

They all looked at her. Her cheeks were burning again, but this time it wasn't embarrassment. "Well, I am _so grateful"—at her tone, Travis scooted a little further away on the bench—"that __I get to have some say in this. After all, one of you is about to make the __supreme sacrifice."_

Trip flinched. Jon had the grace to look embarrassed.

"One of you has to get married. How _terrible for you!" She leaned forward and Malcolm took one step back. Rolling her eyes at him, Hoshi reached under her bench and pulled out a blanket. "Has it occurred to any of you that the only person here who __has to get married is me? I'm the only one who can't pass it off to somebody else. And I have to tell you, none of you is looking like Prince Charming just now."_

Hoshi stretched out on the bench. After a brief, furious struggle with her blanket, during which she _dared anyone to laugh, she settled down with her back to them._

"Hoshi, we have to talk about this," Jon said softly.

"In the morning, Captain. I will let you know my decision in the morning. Right now, I'm tired and I want to go to sleep. If that's all right with you, _sir." She looked at him heatedly over her shoulder. _

Sleep suddenly seemed like a good idea to Jon. "Right. Maybe we should all just sleep on it," he said uneasily. He gestured to the other crewman and the men went to their bunks. The room was quiet for a few moments while they tried to get comfortable.

Travis broke the silence. "So, anybody wanna tell ghost stories?"

Hoshi shot up in her bunk and wheeled on him. He raised his head and met her angry glare. 

"Right. I didn't think so." 

Hoshi lay back down, ignoring the soft chuckles she heard coming from Trip's vicinity. 

Gradually, her anger faded and she started to worry. If they did have to go through with this wedding, how was she going to choose? Who would she choose? Granted, it would be a short-lived 'marriage' but there was still the honeymoon to contend with…and she had always believed her first marriage would be her _only marriage. __'Imagine being tied to one of these twits for the rest of my life.' Mrs. Jonathon Archer. Mrs. Hoshi Mayweather. Hoshi Sato Reed. Hoshi Tucker. She had an urge to giggle hysterically._

Unable to think about it any longer, Hoshi forced her mind to still. Eventually, she fell asleep, lulled by the even breathing of the men around her.


	2. Jon

Jon 

Disclaimer : Star Trek is owned by Paramount. Please do not sue!!

Hoshi's face was sore from smiling. She could feel Jon's hand at the small of her back, but it was annoying, not comforting.

Starfleet personnel, and ambassadors from around the world surrounded them.  Starfleet was throwing this gala in honor of the newest starship to leave Earth's dock. She would rather be at home reading, but Jon had insisted that it would be fuel for gossip if his wife did not attend. She glanced back at her husband. 

He was smiling and laughing at something an ambassador had said.  All Hoshi could think was how much she wished she had an air freshener to shove down the obnoxious man's throat.

Suddenly the ambassador turned to her. "Mrs. Archer, you are a lucky woman. Most women do not have the honor of mating with the first Captain of a fleet from their own planet."

Jon smiled down at Hoshi.

"Yes, Ambassador. I thank my lucky stars everyday."

_Jon was sitting in the den watching a water polo match. Porthos was barking at his feet._

_"Hoshi, I think Porthos needs to be walked." He continued watching the match. _

_"Yes, he probably does," Hoshi said, not removing her eyes from the book she was reading._

_"Thanks hon." Jon reached over and absently patted her knee._

_Hoshi rolled her eyes and went to get the leash._

Jon smiled at the ambassador while giving Hoshi a warning with his eyes.  Luckily, the man seemed to have missed her sarcastic tone.

As they moved through the crowd, Admiral Nichols stopped them.

"Evening, Jon. Mrs. Archer. You folks enjoying the event?"

Hoshi smiled again, thinking her face would split open if she had to do it much longer.  "I didn't actually change my name. It's still Sato, sir," she said in a clipped tone.

Jon frowned at her and said, "Yes, very much so. Hoshi couldn't wait to come this evening." He smiled again in Hoshi's direction.

"Yes. I couldn't wait." _My face is going to be stuck this way._

Jon pulled her against his side, squishing her.

"It's nice to know two people so in love. Hoshi, do you know how lucky you are to have landed this guy? Why, I remember back at the academy how many girls..."

_Hoshi walked in the back door, throwing her bags on the kitchen counter._

_Jon rushed through the kitchen door, sweeping her into a hug. "I missed you so much." He continued hugging her._

_"I missed you too, but I can't breathe." She mumbled into his neck._

_"Oh, sorry." He set her back on her feet._

_She started to walk toward the fridge but was stopped by Jon stepping in front of her. She sniffed the air. _

_"What is that smell?"_

_"I don't smell anything." He sniffed the air dramatically_

_"You can't smell that? Oh my god, it's worse than that Klingon ship." She moved past him toward where she thought it was coming from._

_Jon jumped in front of her again. "I can't imagine what you're smelling, honey. It must be your imagination." He smiled._

_She looked at him and then at the fridge._

_"Did you work on the refrigerator because of the noise you heard," she asked._

_She walked toward the fridge and reached for the handle. The door promptly came off in her hand. There were hundreds of little parts scattered inside, and all the food had rotted._

_She dropped the door and stalked toward him. Jon backed up slowly, watching his wife._

_"Hoshi, I'm sorry, I meant to have it fixed before you got back." He started to pick up his pace as he headed toward the living room, backing up as he went._

_"This is the third appliance you've decided to fix this month, Jonathan."_

_She started running after him. Jon dove for the front door. As he opened it, the screen door was thrown back by a burst of wind._

_SMACK._

_He was holding his lip when she got to him._

_"Oh, honey. Phlox left some salve with me for your lip. For when you hit it again."_

_Jon sighed and walked with her to the bathroom._

Hoshi walked towards the bar, asking for a glass of champagne. As she lifted the glass toward her mouth, she turned back toward the crowd.

"Hoshi, be careful. I think you've had plenty tonight." Jon reached over, taking the glass and setting it back on the bar top.

Hoshi glared and picked up the glass again.

"I'm fine. This is only my third." She brought it up to her lips, tossing it down.

Jon grinned and said teasingly, "I know how you get when you've had a few too many, Hoshi."

Commander Tucker appeared at their side. 

"Hey, Cap'n. I don't know about you but I hate wearin' these damned dress uniforms." He pulled at his collar.

He turned to Hoshi, saying, "Hoshi, how did you get out of wearing your uniform? You don't know how lucky you are…"

_Hoshi sat at the dinner table across from Jon._

_"I thought you were going to mow the lawn today?"_

_"Hey, Jonny's in trouble from the little woman." Trip laughed heartily._

_He was over for dinner, unannounced, AGAIN._

_"I was going to sweetie. But Trip brought this remodifier over that does the most amazing thing..."_

_Hoshi sighed and said, "You know that we could just hire someone to mow the lawn. It's not that expensive…"_

_Jon shook his head while taking another bite of food. "No way are we spending money on something like that."_

_"OK. Then Green Peace will probably be by tomorrow to declare our yard a rainforest," Hoshi said through clenched teeth. She rose to take her plate to the kitchen._

Trip began to laugh again. "You guys are great entertainment. Hoshi, this iced tea is amazin'. Could I get a refill?" He picked up his glass and shook it.

"Yeah, me too, honey." Jon shoved his glass across the table, smiling at her. The clinking of the ice was particularly loud.

Hoshi gasped and sat up in her cot. A guard walked by, his shoes making a clinking sound. Looking around, she remembered where she was. She slumped back on the bed. Rolling over, she chanced a look at the Captain. He was snoring; sound asleep without a care in the world. Hoshi shuddered and rolled back over, looking at the wall. She closed her eyes and drifted off again.


	3. Travis

Travis 

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount. Please do not sue!!

Hoshi rolled over in her sleep. She came awake fast when her face smashed against a cold, hard surface. She opened her eyes, confirming what she already suspected and used her arms to push back enough to talk.

"Travis?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you turn off the gravity after I went to sleep again?"

"Umm…maybe."

"Maybe? Well, since my face is pressed against the ceiling, AGAIN, I'm going to say 'yes', you did turn off the gravity."

A warm hand snagged her ankle, giving it a gentle tug. The momentum carried her across the dark room. Unable to see, she rapped her head lightly against a bookshelf. _'Shit.'_

"You're not mad, are you, Hosh? Here, I'll turn it back on." She heard him whoosh by her and the lights flicked on.

"No, Travis, wait…"

Smack. Still tangled in sheets, she landed hard on her butt. Struggling to sit up, she glared at her husband. As always, he had come down gracefully on two feet. Now he hurried over, laughing. "Sorry about that." He didn't sound especially sorry.

"But hey, now that you're awake," Hoshi shoved her hair out of her face and glowered, "why don't we go down and have breakfast with my family?" 

"It's 4:30 in the morning," she said incredulously.

"I know." He yanked her to her feet and gave her a quick kiss. "We're running a little late, but they'll be thrilled. This is our first visit since we got married—we have a lot of catching up to do."

_We've sat up talking until after midnight for the last two nights. What else can these people possibly have to say?_

Apparently, the Mayweather family always had plenty more to say. As they entered the dining room, Travis's father, a handsome, burly man, snatched her off of her feet in an enormous bear hug. After he had squeezed all of the air from her lungs, he dropped her and marched off, yelling for his wife. Hoshi clung to the steadying hand Travis offered. 

"Travis, can you please tell your father to stop doing that?" she pleaded.

Travis laughed heartily, as if she had just made a very witty comment, and planted a huge smooch on the side of her face. He walked away, shouting cheerfully to his brother-in-law. Hoshi rubbed at her now damp cheek. _My God, the sheer volume alone is going to kill me. Ok, Hoshi, you just have to last three more days._

Stretching her face into a smile, she joined his family and the rest of the crew at the table.

A tall, beautiful woman popped up at her elbow. Hoshi smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. Mayweather."

His mother beamed at her. Before Hoshi could speak again, she wrapped a hand around each of Hoshi's sides, pinching Hoshi's ribcage. "Hoshi Mayweather," she announced, "you are too skinny! We need to get you built up; make you strong."

She piled at least 10 pancakes on Hoshi's plate. Hoshi watched in horror as Mrs. Mayweather slathered each layer with butter and poured a half a bottle of syrup over everything. She swallowed. "Actually," she said faintly, eyes transfixed on the glop of butter pooling on the edge of the plate, "my name is still Sato. I decided not to change it."

The raucous noise at the table stopped so suddenly that Hoshi blinked. Everyone but Travis and his father became engrossed by their plates. Travis looked embarrassed—whether of his wife or his mother, Hoshi wasn't sure.

Mrs. Mayweather frowned at her. "Child, why would you do that? Is there a reason you don't want to use the Mayweather name?" She set her hands on her hips. Hoshi wanted to respond but her mind was totally blank. Meanwhile, Travis's mother hadn't taken a breath. "I just don't understand young women anymore—if you ask me…" _I didn't, Hoshi thought but refrained from commenting "…that's just one of the problems with families today—everybody wants to maintain their own identities, instead of becoming a real family. I…"_

"Mom!" Travis's sister came into the room carrying another platter of hotcakes. "Hoshi's name is her own business." She winked at Hoshi. Travis looked even more relieved than Hoshi felt. 

Mrs. Mayweather sat herself next to Hoshi. "Well…I suppose your right," she said, although she clearly didn't. Everyone at the table seemed to feel better; they went back to their many conversations. Hoshi tried to subtly scrape off some of the butter on her breakfast without drawing her mother-in-law's attention. Travis was deep in conversation with his father. 

_Three days, Hoshi reminded herself. She became aware of Mrs. Mayweather watching her. She stuffed a huge forkful of pancake in her mouth and gave the woman a huge smile._

"…only two years…" Mr. Mayweather's voice caught her attention. She perked up her ears. Travis was smiling broadly at his father. Despite the noise at the table, she heard him say something about "leave of absence." Her heartbeat picked up a little.

"Travis?"

He smiled at her affectionately.

"What are you and your dad talking about?"

Travis looked nervous again, but also excited. Not a good sign.

Mr. Mayweather answered for him. "I was just telling Travis that we're short a few hands for our next run. I can get some more crew eventually, but not before we leave. We'll have to really stretch, unless the two of you come with us." Hoshi had a hard time hearing that last part over her own pulse, which was roaring in her head.

Travis jumped in. "I was telling Dad that Starfleet grants a leave of absence for family issues. I think this would count."

Hoshi felt faint.

Everybody else in the room squealed with excitement. "That would be perfect!" Mrs. Mayweather gushed, wiping at the tears in her eyes. "Oh Travis, you've made me so happy."

"Well, Hoshi and I will have to talk about it," Travis hedged. _A light through the clouds...!_

"But it would be a perfect opportunity for us to start having kids." …_and darkness fell across the land…._

"I…I'm sorry. Kids? But _honey, I thought we were going to wait for a while," Hoshi said through her teeth. Mrs. Mayweather looked at her darkly. Hoshi smiled sweetly and popped another forkful into her mouth._

"Oh, right. But we'd have two years—you wouldn't even have to take any extra time off from Starfleet. You know, kill two birds with one stone."

"Of course!" Her mother-in-law nodded cheerfully. "And you could have two in that time period." She patted Hoshi's leg. "Trust me, Hoshi, you want to have them close together—it makes things so much easier." 

"Exactly," Mr. Mayweather agreed. "But if you two are going to do that, you'll probably want to get started right away."

Everybody watched Hoshi and Travis expectantly, as if they were waiting for them to push aside the pancakes and get a jumpstart on things right there.

Hoshi looked at her husband, speechless. He smiled disarmingly. "Well, we can talk about kids later. But what do you say, Hosh? Want to see what boomer life is like firsthand?"

Hoshi looked back at all of the thrilled faces. Obviously, this was going to make Travis very happy…

"Of course," she said weakly and ate another bite of her breakfast. Everybody cheered and started talking at once.

Mrs. Mayweather smiled at Hoshi. She leaned over and whispered, "Zero gravity, honey. It's how I conceived both of my babies." Then she stood and hurried around the table to hug and talk to her son.

_Two years. Hoshi pushed her plate to the side. __Zero gravity. Bending over, she rapped her forehead down on the table._

And snapped awake, her head stinging. Apparently, she'd bumped her head against the wall in her sleep. She turned over and looked at Travis, who was sleeping soundly on his stomach_. Is he drooling? She closed her eyes tightly and willed herself back to sleep again._


	4. Malcolm

Malcolm 

Disclaimer : Star Trek is owned by Paramount. Please do not sue!!

Hoshi pushed the keypad, entering her security code. The door swung open and she walked in, setting the groceries down on the counter. She pushed the code back in once the door closed behind her.

INVALID CODE

She pushed the digits in again.

INVALID CODE

_Dammit, dammit, dammit._

Hurriedly, she tried to remember if Malcolm mentioned changing it again. 

Screaming alarms began to go off. Their Doberman Pinchers, James and Joyce, came running, teeth bared and barking. When they recognized Hoshi, they scampered out of the room.

Hoshi covered her sensitive ears, running toward the back of the house. The alarms stopped screaming and Malcolm walked out.

"Did you forget the code?" he asked, picking up groceries.

"Did you change it again?" She rubbed at her temples.

"I told you I would this morning, darling. I mentioned it before we went on our morning run." He smiled and headed back to the kitchen.

Hoshi frowned, following him, and said "How many times do I have to tell you not to tell me things at 5 am? I can't even remember my own name at that time."

Malcolm chuckled and said, "Reeds are morning people. You'll learn to adjust."

Hoshi stuck her tongue out at his back. _I'll adjust you. Yeah—good one, Hoshi._

The phone set began to beep. Hoshi started to reach out and answer it, but stopped when she recognized where the call was coming from. Suddenly the picture popped on and Malcolm's mother appeared.

"Good afternoon, Hoshi. Is my son available?"

Hoshi started to point to Malcolm but realized that he was nowhere in sight. _I hate it when he does that._

"No, Mrs. Reed, he stepped out a minute ago. Is there anything you want me to tell him?" Hoshi smiled, attempting to keep her temper in check.

Two hours later, Hoshi hung up the phone.

She stormed through the house yelling Malcolm's name.

He was sitting on the sofa, face buried in a newspaper, James and Joyce at his feet.

"Why do you do that?"

Silence.

"Malcolm?"

"Malcolm?"

"Malcolm!"

"Oh, Hoshi. Have a nice chat with Mother?"

Hoshi frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you remember when we talked about what happens when your mother calls?"

"Of course." He smiled and went back to his newspaper.

Hoshi walked over, pushing the paper down so she could talk to his face.

"What did we decide?" she asked.

"That every time she calls, you should answer the phone and rescue your adoring husband?" He grinned.

Hoshi picked up the couch cushion and swatted him with it.

"No, we decided that occasionally you should talk to your mother. Remember?" She swatted him with the pillow again.

He laughed and blew her a kiss. "Alright, but when Father calls, you're on your own, madam."

****

The door chime rang. 

Hoshi pushed the code and was pleased to see it accepted. Opening the door, she found Malcolm's boss at Starfleet Academy, Professor Quinn.

"Good evening, Mrs. Reed."

"Umm, good evening. But my name isn't actually Reed. I kept my last name…."

He swept past her into the house.

Malcolm came down the stairs. "Good evening, Professor. What can I do for you?"

"Oh nothing, I came to see how you were. I heard that Cadet Newman shot you and was…"

Malcolm's eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently. 

 Hoshi stared at Malcolm "You got shot, AGAIN? How is it possible you're still alive?"

"It was just an accident, Mrs. Reed." Quinn said.

"SATO! My name is SATO." 

She turned her attention back to Malcolm.

"Do you ask people to shoot you? Maybe wear a big target on your back? How about for Christmas I just shoot you instead of giving you a present? Maybe I could do it enough that you could reach that quota of being shot you work so hard to achieve earlier in the year," she fumed.

Malcolm said, "Hoshi, we have company."

Hoshi said, "Is that why you were limping last week?"

Quinn began to sneak past her to the door. He reached out and opened it.

INTRUDER 

INTRUDER

The alarms began to shriek as well. 

At that moment, three people stepped through the door—Malcolm's sister, her husband, and Malcolm's father.

"What the bloody hell is that noise?" his father yelled.

Hoshi looked to Malcolm to shut it off, only to find him gone.

"Malcolm Reed!" she yelled.

Joyce and James ran into the room growling…

Hoshi's eyes opened. She could still hear growling. _What the hell is that noise? She looked at the men in the room._

Obviously asleep, Malcolm was wrestling with his pillow and growling. The pillow swiftly overtook him, and they rolled off the bed, slamming into the floor.

Malcolm sat up and looked at Hoshi.

He blinked.

Hoshi mumbled a curse and rolled back over closing her eyes again.


	5. Trip

Trip 

Disclaimer : Star Trek is owned by Paramount. Please do not sue!!

"Sweet home alabama…oh, sweet home…lord…" A butt, covered in black grease just like the rest of the body it was attached to, twitched in time with some off-key singing.

A slim hand reached around the corner of the workroom door, flipping off the switch on the radio. "Trip?"

"Yes, darlin'?" he danced over, moving to the beat in his own head, and turned the radio back on. 

She stepped inside the cluttered room. "Can I ask what's sitting on my antique cherry dining room table?"

Trip wiggled over to her, still singing under his breath. He grabbed her into his arms and started dancing her around the room. "That's a model of a new phase cannon that Malcolm and I are developing…lord, I'm comin' home to you." 

"It's oily. And it's on my table. The one we have to eat dinner on in less than an hour?"

"I've got you covered, sugar." As the song ended, he dropped her into a low dip and pulled her back up. "I put a towel under it." The doorbell rang. With a charming smile, he walked past her into the house. As he passed, he gave her a playful slap on her rear. She jumped and squeaked; he chuckled.

He threw open the front door and shouted, "Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit! Jon, you never said you were bringing such a beautiful guest with you for dinner."

She walked around the corner and stopped dead. Jon stepped inside, pulling his date with him. "Trip, this is Myra Oslow. Myra, this is Trip Tucker and his wife, Hoshi Sato. Hoshi, you remember Myra, don't you?"

"You two know each other?" Hoshi's husband asked curiously, blissfully oblivious to the women's silent appraisal of each other. 

"Yes. We were in the same class at Starfleet."

"Well, ain't that interestin'," Trip smiled happily. He had an innocent way of looking at a woman like she was the only one in the room. At the moment, he was giving Myra that earnest look. "Why don't you all come in and sit down?"

In the living room, he flopped down on the couch. Hoshi closed her eyes briefly, picturing the black stains that were no doubt forming under his butt.

Myra and Jon sat in the chairs across from him, leaving the space beside Trip open. "Snuggle up, sweet lips," he said, patting the seat. After a quick prayer asking for protection of her favorite white suit, she did. Trip wrapped a grubby arm around her shoulders.

"So you and my girl went to the Academy together, huh? You know, she was second in her class in Linguistics."

Myra smiled politely. "I know." 

Hoshi smiled just as politely. "Myra was first." 

"Oh. Huh."

"What did you do after graduation, Hoshi?" Myra inquired.

"I was the Communications officer on Enterprise."

"Oh, really? I hadn't heard that." Myra was disinterested.

Jon started to say something, but Trip cut him off. "Oh yeah! That's how we met, right darlin'? You shoulda seen her, too. The first few months nobody thought she was gonna make it, 'cept Jon of course. She was always screaming or claustrophobic—she hated space. But I straightened her out, right hon?"

Jon coughed. 

"Yes, Hoshi was a lifesaver on many occasions. One time she even…"

Trip laughed.

"Oh yeah. She was a big help that time she threw up all over that Fresjuam ambassador. Remember that Jon? We were all sitting there enjoying a quiet meal when Hoshi starts puking like there's no tomorrow. What was that nickname we gave you, babe?" Trip continued to heartily laugh.

"Trip," Jon said, a warning in his voice.

"Oh wait, I remember! Heavin' Hoshi!" Trip cackled.

"Yes, good times," Hoshi said tightly. "Coffee anyone?" She was up and out of the room before they could answer.

In the kitchen, Hoshi reached for coffee cups in the cabinet. She pushed aside several forgotten pieces of an old Tucker project and grabbed the cups. She reached for the coffeepot; it was half full of a black, oily substance. Turning to the sink, she found it full of metal, stacked so high that she couldn't fit the coffeepot under the spout. 

Trip strode into the kitchen, Jon on his heels. "Hey, baby, is the coffee ready yet?"

"No, Trip. There are parts in the sink.  There are parts in the cabinets. There is OIL in my COFFEEPOT." 

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that, sweetie. I meant to get that cleaned up earlier…"

She reached for the sprayer on the side of the sink, and started hosing out the coffeepot. "Hoshi," she said calmly. 

"What's that, darlin'?"

She turned around to face them. "Hoshi. My name is Hoshi. Not 'darlin''. Not sweetie, sugar, honeypot, baby, pookie, sweet cheeks, or lover."

Trip eyed her curiously. "Right…anyway, will the coffee be ready soon?"

Behind him, Jon shook his head and ran his hand over his face to cover his smile. Then he leaped out of the way as Hoshi turned the sprayer on Trip. The water hit Trip full in the face, causing him to bellow, "Hoshi!!!"

"Oh, good, you _do remember." She continued to spray him as he dashed around the room, slipping and sliding. In the corner, Jon roared with laughter. Hoshi turned her eye on him. "Myra Oslow?" She nailed him in the ear, causing him to fall down with surprise. _

A soaked Trip guffawed and pointed. Hoshi alternated the water between them. They began to move in on her, holding out their hands to protect themselves. She backed away, laughing now. 

Finally, Trip made a mad dash for her. Only to slip in a puddle of water and slide past her, falling on his back and cracking his head. He sat up, holding his head and laughing. "That hurt! Oh, mama…"

Lying in their cell, Hoshi's eyes opened again. "Mama…" She turned her head to the source of the sound. "Mama…" Trip was curled into a ball on his bench, clutching his pillow like a teddy bear. Fast asleep, he was calling softly for his mama. 

_Oh, for God's sake. Hoshi sat up. She wasn't willing to risk going to sleep again—no telling what nightmares might be lurking this time. Resting her head back against the wall, she waited._


	6. Dodging a Bullet

Dodging the Bullet 

Disclaimer : Star Trek is owned by Paramount. Please do not sue!!

Over an hour passed, and she was just starting to feel sleepy when she heard the guard coming back, accompanied by several other people. When they came level with the cell door, she recognized Phlox and T'Pol. 

Before she spoke, Phlox shouted, "Darling! I've been so worried."

Hoshi was confused. T'Pol interceded, cutting Phlox off before he could continue his dramatic performance. "Yes. Our husband has been eager for your safe return."

By now, the men in the cell were stirring. Archer looked at them questioningly. "Good morning, Captain," Phlox called cheerfully. "If you have no objection, sir, I would like to take my wives back to Enterprise with me. The rest of your team can use the universal translator to continue the trade negotiations?"

Everyone in the little cell sighed in relief. Archer stood up, stretching the kinks from his back. "Doctor, I think that is an excellent idea."

***

Ching, ching, ching.

Archer tapped his wine glass, calling for attention. The laughter and chatter stopped as all eyes focused on him, sitting at the head of the table.

"I'm glad to see everyone having a good time tonight." He smiled, looking around the table. "I realize the crew was a little put out by us taking over the mess hall, but I think we might have been a bit cramped in my personal dining room."

Everyone chuckled. 

"I invited you all here tonight so that we could celebrate our recent escape from another difficult situation. I would like to start this off by proposing a toast to our rescuers, Dr. Phlox and Sub-Commander T'Pol. My father used to love an Irish blessing:

Always remember to forget  
The friends that proved untrue.  
But never forget to remember  
Those that have stuck by you."

The table raised their glasses, chorusing back, "Here, here."

He smiled down to the other end of the table where Hoshi sat. She lowered her eyes, but then raised them back, boldly meeting his gaze. Reaching into her water glass, she secured an ice cube. While the Captain watched, she started to run the ice lightly up and down her throat.

Archer flushed. "Umm, uhhh." He cleared his throat.

Trip, who was on his left, gave him a strange look. "Cap'n, you all right?" he asked.

Archer quickly sat, took a drink of his wine, and became engrossed in the stars outside. 

Phlox, who was to the right of Hoshi, raised his glass again and said, "To my beautiful wives, Ensign Sato and Subcommander T'Pol."

"You are a lucky man, Doctor." Travis said. He was sitting between T'Pol and Hoshi. He glanced over at Hoshi and was shocked to see her smiling in his direction. Travis hesitantly smiled back. She slipped her foot out of its shoe and ran her toes up and down his calf. He dropped his fork in his lap.

"Are you alright, Ensign?" Malcolm asked, watching Travis from across Phlox's other side.

"Fine, sir." Travis said, keeping his eyes downcast.

Malcolm looked over to where Travis's eyes had flickered.

Hoshi watched Malcolm, not smiling, and then licked her lips suggestively. Reed, who had just taken a drink of his wine, coughed, spitting his wine all over his plate.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys?" Trip looked down in Hoshi's direction. She watched him for a minute, then dipped her fingers in her wine, slowly licking it off her fingers.

Trip's eyes widened and he became uncharacteristically quiet.

Phlox spoke. "Ensign, I am curious. If you had been forced to select a husband, which of our crew would you have chosen?"

Hoshi smiled and looked around the table. Each man was watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

T'Pol spoke in her place. "Perhaps Ensign Sato would have chosen not to marry."

Trip frowned. "But that would have meant she'd be executed…"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at the Commander. "As usual, Commander, you have managed to reiterate the obvious," she said.

"What's that s'pose ta mean?" Trip demanded. 

TPol looked at Hoshi and raised an eyebrow. 

Hoshi laughed, long and loudly, until tears ran down her face.

**

Please R&R!!! 8^)


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